


Stupid Words

by GrrraceUnderfire



Series: Coming of Age: Peter Newkirk's Journey [6]
Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Delirium, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrrraceUnderfire/pseuds/GrrraceUnderfire
Summary: A "bonus scene" from Peter and Anja. This comes at the end of Chapter 26, when Newkirk is just getting over the flu and Hogan makes the difficult decision to use him for a quick assignment in camp.
Relationships: Louis LeBeau & Peter Newkirk, Robert Hogan & Peter Newkirk
Series: Coming of Age: Peter Newkirk's Journey [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786459
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Stupid Words

Hogan wasn’t thrilled to tell Wilson that he had plans for Newkirk four days after he’d been flattened by the flu. But then again, Wilson wasn’t the one who had spent the last four days looking after Newkirk; Hogan and LeBeau had. Nobody could accuse Robert Hogan of not caring about the young man, whom he had come to think of as his son. But work was getting backed up, Newkirk was on the mend, and like it or not, Hogan needed his skills.

“I’m sorry, Wilson, but I don’t see a way around it,” Hogan was explaining glumly. “I need Newkirk at 1 o’clock for this job. It won’t take long, and I’m telling you as a courtesy, and to make sure that you don’t come flying over in a tizzy if you see him outside.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Sir,” Wilson said dryly. “I’m on the record with my objections.”

“You _do_ realize that I’m not trying to kill him, don’t you?” Hogan said. “He already seems a lot better.”

“It’s not hard for him to seem ‘better,’ considering that yesterday he couldn’t lift his arm,” Wilson snapped. “Influenza is serious, Colonel, and we don’t have the facilities and medicine needed to help a sick man recover. All I can prescribe is rest, and dammit, I want Newkirk resting. You saw how sick he was.”

Hogan knew. Newkirk—Peter—had been sick for days, and for two nights in a row he was unhinged by fever and racked with pain. He struggled to breathe and couldn’t stop coughing. When he did manage to catch his breath, he called out in his delirium for help from the people he trusted most. Mavis. Louis. Mummy. Daddy.

It had taken a while for Hogan to realize that Daddy meant him. And when he did realize it, he couldn’t wrap the boy in his arms fast enough. He was needed, now.

He sat with Peter through the night, propping him up against his chest so he could breathe. He warmed him when he was cold and cooled him when he was hot and ladled soup and tea and water down his aching throat. He remembered boyhood bouts of measles and diphtheria and realized his parents had done this over and over for four children in the 20-odd years it took for all of them to grow up. That was the moment he understood that your child is always your baby, and when they need you, that’s that. His heart swelled with love for his parents and for the boy he was holding in his arms.

Hogan thought he knew what he meant to Peter until that word came out of his mouth and proved how deep Peter's need truly was. He had told Peter months earlier that he was his dad now, and had even soothed him more than once with the words “your Dad’s here.” But Peter had never addressed him that way—not even privately. Not until the fever stripped him down to his bare needs and exposed a vulnerable thought.

It would have been hard to hear Wilson suggest he was being cavalier about the well-being of any of his men, but Peter was special. He wouldn’t put him at risk. He knew Peter, and knew he could handle what he was being asked to do.

He didn’t expect Wilson to approve, exactly, but he wished he could see that there was nothing reckless in his decision. He had to lead, and he could do that and be careful.

Wilson shook his head. “Fine, Sir, I’ve said my piece. We both have a responsibility to protect these men from unnecessary danger, but…”

“…but it’s war,” Hogan said seriously. “I’m sorry, but you know as well as I do that the mission comes first. The worst it will do is slow him down for another day or two.”

“If you say so, Sir,” Wilson said. “I’m obviously not going to change your mind. But limit his time out of bed, and I need to know how he’s doing when you’re done with him. I’ll come examine him tonight.”

**XXX**

“Tip your head back. Good,” LeBeau said as he prepared to make the last pass of the razor over Newkirk’s chin. “And… that’s… it,” he said, wiping his face off with a towel and running a hand over his cheek to check his work. “ _Ta peau est douce comme de la soie_.”

“Soft as silk,” Newkirk echoed. “That feels much better. Ta, mate.”

“Not being filthy will feel much better too, so let’s get you cleaned up.” LeBeau dunked a sponge into a basin of soapy water, squeezed it out, and was aiming it at Newkirk’s neck when he was intercepted.

“Louis, I can bleeding well wash myself,” Newkirk said, though he was smiling through the complaint.

“Oh, pardon me,” LeBeau said with a touch of sarcasm and an elaborate sweep of his arms. “I’m obviously confusing you with the boy who couldn’t sit up without help last night. The same one who was calling for his daddy.” LeBeau grinned and released the sponge.

Newkirk made some sputtering noises in response, then went silent for a few moments before starting in on LeBeau in a low, grumbling voice. “That’s rubbish, that is,” he said as he peeled off his undershirt and stuck his hands in the basin to scrub his elbows and forearms. “The last person I would ever call out for is my old man,” he said.

“I don’t think you meant him,” LeBeau said, still teasing.

Now Newkirk looked completely flustered. “I, I, I did not say that,” he said sharply.

“You did, _mon pote_ ,” LeBeau said, much more gently. “But it’s alright. Only we were with you. No one else heard, and you calmed down as soon as Colonel Hogan held you.” That was nearly true, LeBeau reminded himself. It had actually taken both of them a solid fifteen minutes to settle Pierre down while his fever raged.

Newkirk made a face, dunked the sponge again, and scrubbed at his underarms more roughly than was absolutely necessary. “You don’t have to stand there gawking at me while I wash,” he said crossly.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” LeBeau said, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Newkirk said, sounding startled. “Wh-where are _you_ going?”

LeBeau spun back, waiting for a wisecrack. Instead, he got pure sincerity, complete with wide, trusting eyes.

“There’s no need for you to go,” Newkirk said. He could feel a panic rising. Now and then, an urgent need to keep LeBeau in sight caught him by surprise.

“Alright. I can stay. What do you need help with?” LeBeau asked.

“N-nothing. J-j-j-just keep me company, that’s all,” Newkirk replied. “Please, Louis?”

LeBeau nodded and sat down on Colonel Hogan’s bed. He shouldn’t have teased him, he knew that, but sometimes he couldn’t resist. Pierre always bounced back from being sick, but sometimes his determination to stand on his own two feet needed a little time to overtake his fear of being alone. Sometimes he could be jollied out of a bad mood with a joke; other times—like now, apparently—jokes backfired and only patience worked.

As LeBeau settled down, Newkirk released a breath and began washing. They communed silently, exchanging glances and small smiles, as Newkirk got himself good and clean, toweled off, then tugged on clean shorts, his uniform trousers and a fresh undershirt.

He sat next to LeBeau on the bunk and shook his head, looking vaguely miserable. “I, I really don’t remember saying that, Louis,” Newkirk said. “It’s j-j-just a stupid word, anyway. But…” The word hung there as he tried to push out the next one. “He, he is like a father to me. You know that.”

“Of course I do,” LeBeau said, squeezing Newkirk’s arm.

“And, and, and I wish he was my dad. I really do,” Newkirk continued.

“I know that too,” LeBeau replied.

“Well, don’t tell anyone what I said, because it makes me look like a stupid kid. And I’m not a kid. You know I’m not.”

LeBeau simply nodded, then he pulled Newkirk closer. “It’s alright to need people, Pierre. Whether it’s the Colonel, or me, or Mavis, or Anja, you’re allowed to need us. Do you understand?”

Newkirk shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said, and leaned into LeBeau. “Colonel wants me to talk to Mills and Garlotti about a job that needs doing,” he said, yawning.

“Hmm,” LeBeau said. “It can wait. You need to lie down.”

Newkirk put up no resistance whatsoever. “Alright,” he said as he flopped down on his side, his legs curled around LeBeau where he sat. “I oughtn’t to sleep in my trousers,” he said through another yawn. “I ought to put my nightshirt back on.”

LeBeau got up and pulled over a chair to sit in. “It needs to be washed quite desperately, so no. You can sleep in your trousers or take them off,” he said. 

Newkirk frowned, but made a decision. "Off," he said. "It's less wear and tear on the fabric." He wriggled out of his trousers and laid back down, stripped down to his shorts and looking vaguely embarrassed. He tugged a blanket over himself.

LeBeau folded the trousers, then leaned in and adjusted the blanket. “I told you that you were too ill to go on the mission, and once again I was right. And I told Colonel Hogan, too.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” Newkirk replied irritably. “Don’t take on so about it.”

“I’m the one who lost three days looking after you,” LeBeau replied, though there was no bite whatsoever in his comment. “Still, you accomplished what you needed to, eh? The Colonel said you were invaluable.”

“Well, that’s just lovely,” Newkirk said, sounding hurt.

LeBeau looked at him for a moment, and then laughed. “No, Pierre, _in_ valuable. Extremely valuable. _Indispensable_ ,” LeBeau said, pronouncing it in the French way.

“Why put an ‘in’ in front of valuable, then? If you said I was incompetent or incapable I wouldn’t think you mmmeant I was very competent or very capable. I wwwould think you meant I wasn’t at all good. What if he said I was inefficient or, or inept. Wwwwould that mean I was very, extremely ept? And what does ‘ept’ mean, while we’re at it? St-stupid words.”

“Don’t ask me questions about _your_ appalling English language, Pierre,” LeBeau replied. “All I can say is you must be feeling much better if you’re arguing about something pointless.”

Newkirk laughed at that. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” He laid still, looking over at LeBeau, then reached out his hand. “I’m tired, but I don’t fffeel like sleeping. Will you stay with me until Mills and Garlotti get here?”

“You behave as if I have nothing better to do,” LeBeau ribbed him as he stroked his hand. “ _Oui_ , of course I will stay. Sleep and I will wake you up when they come, _hein_?”

Newkirk plumped his stolen pillow and tried to close his eyes but he was restless.

“Louis?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t really c-call him that, did I?”

“Pierre, why would I make this up?”

Newkirk had to think about that. “You might, j-just to get under my skin.”

Silence was his answer. LeBeau was telling the truth.

“Well, what did he say to that?” Newkirk asked softly.

LeBeau looked at him, sorting through complex emotions. Relief that Pierre was feeling better. Fear that he was being roped into another mission. Affection for the brave young man who was so committed to his team, and tenderness for the needy boy who was never far below the surface. Irritation that he wouldn’t shut up and go to sleep. He really was a chatterbox.

“Move over,” LeBeau said. “Come on, sit up.”

Newkirk did as he was told, and LeBeau slid onto the bed. He sat up tall, then gathered Newkirk into his arms, leaning him against his chest. He held him close and stroked his arms.

“Mmmm,” Newkirk said with a warm murmur of pure satisfaction as he leaned back into a strong embrace.

“This is what Colonel Hogan said when you called him 'Daddy,' Pierre,” LeBeau said. “These are the words he used. Now go to sleep.”


End file.
